Always in Silence
by Eris Clearwater
Summary: The most sought after woman in the shire has declared a challenge for her hand: retrieve the key that hangs from the collar of her cat and in doing so, will win her hand. All who chase fail. . . who will have her hand?


She was the talk of the shire, and the only thing vast masses thought of day and night. When they waded in the ocean, they envisioned silky aquamarine tresses. When they dreamt of the skies and heaven, they were reminded of her clear azure eyes and angelic touch. When they glimpsed the stone walls that hid her away, they recalled her sharp mind and wit that she used to shield herself from their meddling.

Her father, lord of the shire, bid that no one be allowed to lay eyes on his beloved daughter, thus she was veiled behind great walls of stone wreathed in cold iron thorns and warily eyed guards.

As the lord grew decrepit, the whisperings of his daughter's beauty and grace grew too. Great heroes bent knee and knelt before him, having heard of her grace and requested an audience and her hand should they find her to their liking. Always they asked. Always were they rejected. Some came back in force, wielding the might of steel and magic at their hands. Always they failed.

Their dismissal only fueled the rumours and whisperings that surrounded the lord's daughter. For the Lord gave them not the name of his heir, they christened her Daughter of Tasha, goddess of unknowing. Some believed her to so very obscure, they spoke of her as though she were Tasha herself.

Time trod on, and the lord grew grey. And by the laws of the land—though heir she might be—his daughter would inherit nothing when he passed. After years of standing idly by, he sought to finally have her wed.

She agreed to be wed. The doors to her home were opened, and the daughter of Tasha stepped out. All the people of the shire gathered at the gates to glimpse what they've only ever dreamt of. In her slender and pale arms, she held a sleek cat, black as shadows in the night with gems of azure for eyes. She stood in the threshold of the gates just watchful as her feline. The people spoke in hushed tones of awe. _The daughter of Tasha was young and beautiful. The daughter of Tasha was rich. The daughter of Tasha was a goddess of her own._

Her voice was strong and sure when she spoke. 'The one to have my hand will be the one to obtain the key that rests upon the collar of my cat,' she declared. She set the cat down and stepped back into her fortress of stone and steel.

They gave chase to the cat who dodged each attempt to ensnare it. The wealthy employed hunters and ordered slaves to hunt down the feline. The poor cast nets woven from the thread of their garb. Always they gave chase. Always they failed.

When a week passed and a new day shone, a new face was welcomed to the shire. A prodigy knight had returned from his quest. Without delay, he was told of the challenge the daughter of Tasha posed. He was told of the rewards, and he was told of the cat they'd christened as Fortune. The buzz of the challenge lingered in the air and to escape the busy bustling of town, he thought to gaze upon the river's waters. Do not wander into the forest, mothers taught their babes. Be wary of the shadows' tricks, woodcutters cautioned.

The knight need not heed the warnings, for as long as he had steel at his hand and wit sharper than his blade, he would be safe. So to the river's edge, he went, so through the forest, he threaded, and to the river's edge he came.

There, as though in wait, sat a cat of night, with eyes that smouldered of blue flame. Perhaps it was the feline that all the shire sought after. And sure enough, a key of blue crystal hung on its neck.

But the knight made no move to seize the cat. Only reached into his satchel and pulled out a bit of cheese to toss to the cat. The feline sniffed it warily, snatched it up and prowled closer.

The knight sat at the river's edge and dusted the leaves from his cloud-white hair, the brown of his skin suddenly blinding against the light that peeked through the trees. The cat prowled ever nearer.

_'Are you my fortune?'_ he asked the cat. He did not expect an answer nor was he given one. The cat padded away into the labyrinth of trees, leaving only silence in its wake, and the knight wondering if fortune would soon befall him.

Always will fortune be silent, lest it be expected.

The knight settled back into natural, mundane life. Alone, for no one sharing his blood lived in the shire, his mind wandered. And with it, his feet found themselves at the river's edge once more. And once more, Fortune awaited him. Without realizing, the knight had brought with him his satchel, filled with rich cheeses and fresh bread. He sat at the river and offered the food to the cat. It wandered to his side in acceptance.

Minutes turned hours just as dawn turns to dusk. The knight passed the time by asking the cat meaningless questions, receiving only silence in return. The more he spoke, the more he was sure that fortune would soon befall him. But as with all things, chance is a fickle thing.

_'Are you my fortune?'_ He asked again. The cat only watched the waters slosh about before slinking off into the forest without a sound. The Knight was sad to see it go.

Always will fortune be silent, lest it be expected.

The knight returned for the third day. Again he brought his cheeses, and again he spoke to both the cat and himself. When he grew weary, he posed his question to the cat a final time.

_'Are you my Fortune?'_ he asked. The hope that had nestled in his heart grew thin as the past three days had worn on. But that hope was born anew as the cat bowed its head and began to change.

Its fur fell away to reveal smooth flowy garb, and paws stretched into long human fingers. Pointed ears rounded and poked through long blue locks.

Before him stood the daughter of Tasha, the shadowy feline nowhere in sight.

She lifted the key from her neck and offered it to the Knight.

_'I believe I am your fortune,'_ she grinned as he accepted the key with a smile in silence. The Knight was not surprised. Though he knew not, he knew.

Always will fortune be silent, lest it be expected.


End file.
